We must go back to the time when Joe and old Runnell started away from Snow Lodge to see what game they could bring down for the next meal or two.
“We haven’t any time to waste,” said the old hunter, as they moved along. “In an hour it will be too dark to shoot at a distance.”
“Shall we take snowshoes along?” asked the youth.
“Not worth while, lad. We’ll try those in the big forest over on the mainland later on.”
The lodge was soon left behind, and old Runnell led the way through some brushwood that skirted the base of the hill.
“There ought to be some rabbits around here,” he said, and had scarcely spoken, when two rabbits popped into view. Bang! went his gun, and both were brought low by the scattering shot.
“Gracious! but you were quick about that!” cried Joe, enthusiastically.
“You don’t want to wait in hunting, Joe. Be sure of what you are shooting at, and then let drive as quick as you can pull trigger.”
On they went, and a few rods farther scared up two other rabbits. Joe now tried his luck, Joel Runnell not firing on purpose. One of the rabbits fell dead, while the other was so badly lamed that Joe caught and killed him with ease.
“Good enough! Now we are even!” exclaimed the old hunter.